


Pain Comes Up As Thorns

by bluevelvett



Category: Naruto
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Orochimaru chokes on his pride, Roses, like... literally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 11:23:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18365018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluevelvett/pseuds/bluevelvett
Summary: Orochimaru starts to feel an unbearable pain in his lungs, coughing up blood and petals of purple roses.





	Pain Comes Up As Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :)  
> I really thought about posting this story only next month, but I still need to reread the last chapter of "A Walk on Memories" and I did not want to let you without any content, so I inverted the order I would post and this one came first.  
> The title is based on a verse of Fantasy, by VIXX.  
> This is the first Hanahaki Disease story I write. I do not know if it is good because although I know about it, I never really read any story containing Hanahaki Disease. I did some research about the disease and the meaning of the flower I used before writing, and I personally think it is good.  
> This story is not as long as my other one but it is not as short as "The Despair of Mercy". Also, it does not have any dialogue.
> 
> So, I hope you like this story :D  
> Good reading

Everything started one day in the hideout, when Orochimaru felt Kabuto’s fingers gently touch his forehead, sensing the temperature to verify any possible fever. He had requested Kabuto to come to his bedroom after a head ache, after taking medications and after starting to feel a bit of pain in his chest, and he thought it was a sign meaning they would have to prepare for him to switch bodies again. It has been some months, maybe years, since Orochimaru had last felt that simple touch on his skin, there was no need for it until that specific day, and he did not remember the sensation until it happened again.

Kabuto checked Orochimaru meticulously, asking if the man felt pain anywhere else or if he could do something more than just hand him some analgesics. Orochimaru said he could not, and paid attention on how carefully Kabuto touched his face, how his fingers felt warm and soft on his skin. He wanted to tease the young man about being so gentle with him, but something kept him from doing it. And after Kabuto left his room, the snake man started to question himself why he allowed Kabuto to stay close to him so easily. Before Kabuto, he never allowed anyone to stay by his side when he was in pain and, he hated to admit, in a state of vulnerability. Not even other medics were allowed to stay close to him like that. So, why Kabuto was different?

In the next two days, he found himself asking for Kabuto to come to his room only to stay close to him, and he used the excuse of feeling a pain he actually was not feeling _yet_ , but Kabuto did not need to know those details. Occasionally, Orochimaru talked to the medic, asking what he have been doing and how was the progress with creating more medication. Other times he just stayed silent, observing his subordinate’s face. He knew he was starting to feel different towards Kabuto, he was not stupid at the point of not noticing it. And he blamed the controversial trust he gave Kabuto for it, blamed the necessity to have a right arm by his side to help him when needed. But he knew the truth.

And the truth became even more obvious – not to him, though – when in the third day, alone in the middle of the night, he started to feel his breath becoming unsteady, followed by cough and an unexpected rose petal coming out of his mouth. It was colored with a deep purple, along with some light violet marks on it. Also, it was slightly covered with blood, which made the man worried. What was happening to him?

 Being the researcher he was, he spent the entire next afternoon looking for botanic books to find something to maybe give him a clue about what was that. And after reading innumerous files, he only saw something about a disease in which the patient started coughing flower petals that ‘their loved one' most appreciated. He laughed. He laughed a lot. A person like him did not feel _love._ He just could not _feel_ love. And after he got tired of that _bullshit_ – like he called those specific pages of the book –, he just put it back on a shelf, along with the other books.

—————X—————

A week passed. The visits Kabuto made to Orochimaru’s room were becoming more frequent, and the Sannin was beginning to feel more pain on his body, especially inside his chest. He did not tell Kabuto about the petals he had been throwing up for more time than he would like to, he knew that Kabuto had already read those books and he would not like if his right-hand man found out _exactly_ what was happening to him. It would be a shame if Kabuto discovered that Orochimaru _loved him,_ so he preferred to hide it, his pride swallowing him up and almost making him deny everything he felt, wishing everything was just a fantasy. But he _certainly_ mentioned about the discomfort on his lungs, and Kabuto only gave him more medicine, hoping that the pain would fade away even a bit. Orochimaru could see the worry in the younger’s face, and even with contorted expressions, the snake man could easily observe his appearance.

Kabuto was not an absurdly handsome man. He did not draw attention where he walked to. For most people, his glasses were an imperfection that did not let him be classified as a beautiful man, but for Orochimaru, his focused dark eyes behind those glasses made Kabuto look mysterious. Of course, in a good way. Orochimaru never could tell what Kabuto was thinking only by looking at his eyes, and he liked that feeling, but he also wanted to see how Kabuto would look like without that gaze on his eyes. Looking carefully at his face, he saw his lips were curved in a preoccupied way, but usually they give place to a mischievous smirk. And it only made the Sannin ask himself if he ever saw Kabuto truly smiling.

When he was done, the medic left the room without saying nothing more, leaving Orochimaru alone again. And the older was sure he was already fated to disgrace the moment he laid on his bed and thought about touching Kabuto. About how soft his hair would feel on his fingers. About how his lean but muscular body would touch his own. About all the kisses they could share on this same bed. About how good it would feel to be _fucked_ by him. After all those thoughts, Orochimaru ended up just touching himself, one of his hands on his penis and the other with the fingers moving inside of him. He moaned lowly so that _no one_ in the hideout heard him, feeling the pleasure building up as well as the burning feeling on his lungs. He felt on fire from both the pleasure and the pain. And he could not stop. Everything just felt _so good._

But only a few minutes after reaching his orgasm, he felt his throat burning. He started coughing even more strongly, expelling up an entire purple rose this time, almost completely covered up in blood. His throat ached and tasted like the red liquid he spilled, and, after seeing the thorns on the rose stem, he knew exactly the reason why.

He was _really_ disgraced. Because he knew he was dying. And there was nothing he could do about it.

—————X—————

Coughing whole flowers and blood for more five days only made Orochimaru sure things were not going to be alright. Kabuto had experienced one of his coughing crises but fortunately – or not –, there was no sign of any flowers that day. Only blood, making Kabuto much worried than Orochimaru thought he would be. After thinking a little and giving a sedative to the Sannin, Kabuto said it may be tuberculosis and that in the next few hours he would find a vessel for his master, all the words leaving his lips while Orochimaru slowly started to feel the effects of the medicine, falling asleep in some minutes.

Orochimaru woke up not many hours later, the pain coming back gradually as he breathed. He sighed tiredly because he did not know how to stop this feeling. Maybe exchanging his body would work, but he wanted to know if there was any cure to this uncommon disease in case it did not. So, he got up and headed to the little library he went many days before, searching for the book he had read back then.

He looked at every single page, every word, trying to understand what the cure to this aching feeling could be. And he found nothing. Maybe if he told Kabuto the man could help him, but he would _never_ do it. He would never tell Kabuto he was coughing up _his_ favorite flowers because of _love._ One, because he did not know how Kabuto would react, and two, because he could not allow himself to feel such thing. He was Orochimaru, the Snake Sannin feared in many countries for his crimes, for fuck’s sake. He loved nothing, he loved no one. And he still tried to deny it to himself, failing every time he thought about his medic.

Orochimaru stayed in the room until the night came, kneeling on the floor and looking at the open book as if waiting for a cure to appear right in front of him. After giving up, he took the book in his hands to search for the meaning of that rose Kabuto liked. Since he could not do anything anyway, he would at least understand something about Kabuto. In the white pages, it said that the dark purple rose represents intimate relationships like true _love_ that would stay forever. _“How cliché of you, Kabuto…”,_ he thought, smiling slightly at the thought that, maybe, just maybe, Kabuto could feel this 'eternal love' for him. He did not know that this side of Kabuto existed. And after thinking about what he read, he started to imagine how things would be if he and Kabuto stayed together. But soon he let the smile fade away as he felt that familiar sensation in his chest taking over him again, strongly than ever before.

He put both hands on the floor, feeling his throat expel another rose, this time completely red with all the blood, close to the same color of the robe he was wearing. But it did not stop with the first one. He coughed even more flowers, one after the other, all of them full of blood. His lungs and his throat ached every time he tried to breathe deeply to calm himself, tears of pain rolling from his eyes, and he started coughing again, this time only blood coming out of his mouth. He tried to call for Kabuto, deciding to let his pride aside a little. Maybe the younger could help him. But his voice did not come out, and only more blood slipped from his lips. It was too late for him, and he knew it.

Orochimaru smiled bitterly at himself. If only he was not so full of pride… He tried to breathe in deeply again, but his lungs did not obey. He coughed some more petals as blood slipped from his lips, dripping in the floor with the abundancy it came out. He felt a flower obstructing his breath and ripping his throat, making him feel an agonizing pain that he could not ease. And so, he started to choke with all the petals and the blood.

 _“What a beautiful and yet stupid way of dying…”,_ he thought to himself, his body finally giving up. Then, he just fell on the floor, suffocating with the love he was not able to confess.

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Orochimaru would probably not die from something like that but I took poetic liberty for the story to make sense. I do not think it was out of character, at least not much. Also, I did not write how Kabuto would react to his death because I like to let the readers decide. Same thing about his feelings towards his master, so, if he loved Orochimaru back or not, I let you choose. And if you want to let me know what you think, leave your thoughts in the comments, I will be glad to answer :)
> 
> If anyone wants to follow me on Twitter, it is @/bluevelvett05. Occasionally I post some things about the stories I intent to write and comment about the news I see, about my life, etc.
> 
> Hope you liked this story, and, if you are reading "A Walk on Memories", see you next month ❤


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